Over
by InhumanFangirl084
Summary: Post-Battle of NY. May has to deal with Coulson's death and accept that her best friend is gone. She misses him, so when Fury tells her about the T.A.H.I.T.I project she wants to be there to protect him... Even if that means lying behind his back Hints of Philinda... maybe something more in the future
1. Chapter 1

She knew something was wrong the moment she saw Nick Fury standing at her door in the security cameras.

 _Phil_ , she immediately thought, feeling her insides freezing in an immediate and absolute panic.

He had called her last night. They hadn't talked a lot, but she had been worried ever since. He had confessed things were going south with the Avengers project, and that Loki's threat was too far away from their control. He had, however, told her to take care of herself, as if she were the one who was threatened by Thor's brother while trying to save humanity. Typical of him.

May opened the door pressing a button and went to the entrance to meet him.

"Fury" she said. It was only then that she realized she hadn't seen him in almost two years. She wasn't in the mood of talking, but she had the perfect knowledge he wasn't exactly there for a cup of tea.

"Melinda" he replied. Another bad sign. He hadn't called her like that since Bahrain. "How are you?"

She didn't answer. They made their way to the living room and sat down on the couches. The tension in the atmosphere was clear, May just wanted that unusual meeting to be over so she could go and see Coulson in whichever hospital he was in.

Nevertheless, the director didn't seem to have any interest on rushing the situation, and just stayed silent, walking his eyes across the room until they stopped for a second before returning back to her. May followed his eyes to see what had distracted him. It had been a picture, the only one she had kept visible in her new house after moving out from the one she had with Andrew. It was a small and quite old photography of her… and Coulson.

She swallowed hard. Her pulse rushed.

Her eyes met with Fury's and she noiselessly begged him to say whatever he had to say.

"As you probably know by now, the battle of New York took place yesterday" he finally said, crossing his arms over his chest. May just nodded. She had heard so in the news that morning, and although Phil hadn't called her she hadn't really worried until now, thinking he was stuck in his office filling tons of paperwork. "And as you know too, Coulson was there"

"Just tell me where he is" she said; her voice turned into a barely audible whisper.

"I'm sorry?" Replied Fury.

"Which hospital is he in?" insisted May.

Fury sighed. "That's why I'm here, Melinda" he said. "He's not in any medical facility"

"Okay, then tell me his hotel or base, I don't care"

"I can't" Fury stood and approached her side. May did the same. Still looking straight into her eyes, he put a hand on her shoulder in the way he used to do all those years back when they worked all together as a team and he needed to give her some really bad news. "Melinda… Phil is not in a base or hospital or hotel room… Phil Coulson is dead"

May didn't react. She didn't even understand what he had just said.

"He is dead" repeated Fury, reading her thoughts by her blank expression. "Loki killed him when Coulson tried to stop him. I… I am so sorry"

May shook her head. "He's not dead" she said, quietly. She shook her head again and repeated the phrase, this time with a begging tone. "He's not dead"

"I know how hard this is for you, May, but I'm afraid it's true" he said. "He's dead"

"No. No. I… No!" she exclaimed, taking a step back. "He can't be dead! We talked over the phone _yesterday!_ Phil… No!"

"Melinda, you need to calm down" Fury grabbed her arm, but she shook him off violently.

Since Bahrain she hadn't said more than ten words in a conversation, but that was too much for her. She lost the perfect control she had over her emotions and let it all out.

"Stay away from me!" yelled May, kicking away the chair that was next to her. It landed on the coffee table, which being made of glass broke into one million pieces. She didn't care and threw one of the largest pieces away. The glass cut her hands but that didn't stop her. "It's your entire fault! It's all your fault!" she continued tearing, breaking, and kicking. Books, chairs, home decorations, pillows, paintings; nothing was safe from her pain. Fury didn't even blink when she hit him several times in the arm and other several parts of his body. "It's all your fault! He's not dead…"

"It is my fault" he agreed. "But you have to remember I cared for him and…"

"And nothing!" she said. "You say you care for him, but you got him killed! You say he was your friend, but you weren't there to…" May suddenly stopped talking and moving across the shattered living room. "And neither was I" she whispered. "I…"

"No" Fury cut her off, looking at her worriedly. "Melinda, listen to me. It wasn't your fault"

"It was" replied the retired agent. "He wanted me to be there with him… And I said no. It's my entire fault"

"Melinda…"

"Go" she said.

"No until you calm down" said Fury shaking his head.

"Get out!" she repeated. "Just… leave me alone" she said, her chest raising and falling at the rhythm of her unstable and difficult breathing. She felt as if someone were trying to strangle her after kicking her in the chest. "Please"

"You promise me you won't do anything stupid?" replied Fury.

May nodded. "I want… I need to be alone"

"All right" Fury nodded. "Just… take care of yourself. And… May" he said before disappearing through the door. She looked up to him. Broken eyes empty of emotions. "The funeral is on Friday"

May didn't answer and when the door closed she just looked around. Everything was destroyed, useless, out of place. Just like herself. Most positively guided by her torturous masochist heart, May couldn't help but to look up to the shelf where the photography had been. Not finding it she searched it desperately around the room and finally found it under a chair.

With trembling hands she held it in front of her. Coulson and she were smiling at the camera, hugged by the shoulders, so young and free and happy it was almost impossible to believe it was really them. May took the photo out of the frame and squeezed it against her chest as a hundred memories helplessly flooded her mind.

The day they had met at the academy all those years ago. All those late nights of study in his room eating pizza or the long talks at three on the morning on the roof. Their graduation. Their first mission as a team. The countless experiences they had shared together, both good and bad, but equally valuable. His dorky but adorable smile every time she rolled her eyes at one of his awful puns. The way he had stayed with her after Bahrain; even Andrew eventually gave up and walked away, but he never did…

"Phil" she whispered. Bitter tears started rolling down her eyes. Tears of pain, regrets, guilt and pure agony. Coulson was dead… and it was all her fault.

She hadn't been there to save him. Okay, maybe it was Loki she was talking about but deep in her heart she knew she could have bought him some seconds to scape.

He wanted her to be there.

May let herself fall down to the floor.

Coulson had wanted her to be a part of the team, but she had said no.

She had left him.

And he… Oh, God, what was she supposed to do without him? Her partner, her best friend, and the only real one she had left… Dead. And it was all her fault!

May closed her eyes as she cried his death. He meant a lot to her. A lot. She… loved him.

She loved him.

Not in the typical romantic way. She loved him because he was always there for her. Because he was smart and brave and brilliant, and maybe a big dork but the best one. He was her best friend. Her partner. They were part of a team that didn't work with one of the pieces missing. Phil was the only reason she had left to keep fighting against her demons. He knew her and understood her like nobody did, not even Andrew.

She was in love with Phil Coulson.

But she never got the chance to tell him that, always thinking the right time would come for them, that things would get better.

And now he was dead, and everything was over.

* * *

What do you think guys? I originally wrote it as a one-shot but I have a few ideas for a second chapter... let me know if you want me to continue. Please post some reviews! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**WARNING: DARK THOUGHTS AND A BIT OF SUICIDE... I'M SO SORRY IF THIS IS TRIGGERING FOR SOMEONE!**

* * *

May woke up in the middle of the night. She looked around, startled and sweaty, feeling nauseous, anxious and extremely worried at the same time, though couldn't think of a reason why. Stupid Bahrain and her nightmares. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. Maybe she would call Coulson later, make sure he was okay…

 _Oh._

Right. She couldn't. Bahrain was not the reason of why she was feeling like that. It was him. He was _dead._

May jumped out of her bed and ran to the bathroom. She kneeled on the floor and threw up in the toilet for several minutes. When she stopped her whole body was in pain, shaking violently. After what felt like an hour, she finally felt strong enough to acquire a straightened position, flush the toilet and return to her bedroom.

Coulson had been dead for three days now, and though she knew it wasn't a long time at all, she didn't know how much more she would be able to take. She still couldn't believe it, ended up waking up screaming in the middle of the night, trying to escape a nightmare just to find that the worst one belonged to the real world. Sometimes she found herself grabbing her phone to text him, or listening to the same voicemail over and over again. She had heard it the day after Fury's visit;

 _Hey there, how are you? I'm kind of worried right now, though I have the feeling this is all going to end pretty soon... I'll pay you a visit once I'm free, okay? Call me when you get this._

If the files she had stolen from the agency were right, Coulson had called her an hour before his death. _An hour_.

Coulson wasn't dead. He wasn't. He was in some secret mission or something. But if he was alive… then why was she going to his funeral that day? May would have done anything for not going there, _anything._

The alarm clock on her nightstand indicated her that it was a quarter to four on the morning, which meant that she still had another seven hours before the funeral. She tried to go back to sleep, but realizing how impossible it would be she ended up grabbing a book and reading until six am. Then she did her Tai-chi routine and trained until she felt like fainting. When she was done she made herself some scrambled eggs and a cup of tea and sat on the kitchen counter to try to eat.

May looked around as she took a small sip from her tea. She could hear some birds singing on the trees, cars running down the street, the wind whistling through her window. It was so unfair, she thought, how life dared to go on and expected her to do so as if nothing had happened, as if her partner and basically the last person in the world that truly cared for her hadn't died.

Once at the funeral Melinda knew she wasn't going to like it, though not because the obvious fact she was at her best friend's funeral, but because it wasn't at all as how she had imagined it would be. The front road was occupied by agents, just not his real friends but simple colleagues or admirers. The decorations were red and gold, a combination Coulson had always hated unless it was Christmas. Everything was too fancy and not like him at all.

"I know" said a voice next to her side. She didn't need to turn around to know who it belonged to. "I'm sorry"

May didn't answer. She hadn't talked with Fury since the day he had told her Phil had died, and she wasn't exactly in the mood of chatting with him. She stayed at the last road with him, Natasha, Clint and Hill, hearing people who didn't really know Coulson talking about him for several minutes. Yes, maybe agent Smith had cried while telling a funny anecdote she had heard about Coulson, and agent Mason's speech about the great man he was brought almost everyone to tears. But it was all a lie.

May didn't cry. Not a single person who talked about him ever mentioned his name. Ever. Agent Coulson this, agent Coulson that. Never Phil. She wanted to do something, to stand up in front of everyone and tell them how Phil, _her Phil_ ¸ actually was. He wasn't just smart and professional; he was a sweet dork who loved Captain America and awful puns and his car, who had never left a man behind, who had tried to fix her after she tried to push him away. Who was her partner and best friend and… the man she loved.

Natasha put a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently, not even looking at her but seeming as disgusted as she was. May appreciated the gesture from her; Natasha was a good friend, one of the only persons who really knew her and probably the one who understood her the most.

She had noticed people staring at them; probably wondering about what were the Black Widow and the Cavalry doing at that good man's funeral. Even if it made her sick, deep inside of her May always thought she couldn't really blame them. People, and especially new agents, had always been curious about their friendship. Why would someone like _him_ be with someone like _her_? He was the charming field agent who everyone respected and liked. She was the feared and legendary assassin of the agency.

When it was over, the five of them stayed a little longer than the rest. Not saying a word, Nick handed May an envelope, which she took but didn't open. He left after a few minutes, followed by Hill and Clint.

"Go" said May. It was only then she realized it was the first word she had said in three days. Natasha nodded. She put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently for the second time in the day; then left as well.

Now she had what she had wanted ever since Bahrain, right? She was officially alone.

* * *

Six weeks. Six weeks since Coulson had died. A month and a half. 42 days. 1,008 hours. 60,480 minutes.

Nothing had really changed since his funeral. Endless memories haunted her throughout the day, both good and bad, and nightmares weren't exactly new for her. On the other hand, her routine hadn't changed at all. She woke up every morning, trained, practiced Tai-chi, then had some breakfast and went to work. Work was easy and boring, perfectly predictable and though she absolutely loathed it, it was still a nice way to keep her mind occupied in stapling and piling up files that nobody would probably read ever again.

The difficult part was returning to her house. There she cleaned, trained even more, read a few books and cooked. But once she was done with all of that, she was alone with herself, and that was what she hated and feared the most. If it wasn't too painful she would go through some photo albums and even look at Phil's Captain America vintage cards, which were stained in his blood but were still a valuable part of him. The cards were the small package that Fury had given to her at the funeral. After that she would have dinner, watch a movie or a random program and go to sleep.

But sometimes it was harder than that. Voices inside of her head kept telling her that everything was her fault; Bahrain was her fault, her divorce was her fault, her friends walking away was her fault, Phil's death was her fault. Therefore the way she felt, empty and broken, was her fault too. And that hurt. A lot.

That afternoon had been particularly difficult for her. Her mother had called her to know how she was doing, probably afraid to find out she had given up and killed herself, thought May bitterly. From all her options, suicide was usually the best-looking one and maybe the easiest one too. It would be so simple; she had guns and knives in her house, a bottle of pills in her bathroom, a rope in her garage… But no.

Hell no.

Suicide was a rather tempting choice, but deep inside herself she knew it wouldn't help anyone at all. It wasn't her opportunity to get rid of her pain; it was erasing the last one of her opportunities to get better. And even if her whole world had shattered down to pieces around her, she was a warrior and she still wanted to fight.

Besides, if there was any possibility Coulson was somewhere looking at her, she would never let him see her giving up like that.

May shook her head, trying to push that thought away. She needed to distract herself so she decided to go out. She changed into some black trousers, black boots and a black blouse Coulson had given her for her birthday a few Christmases ago, then grabbed her keys and left the house. She probably didn't even notice it was past three on the morning.

May started to walk, feeling without thinking while strolling down empty streets and dark alleys and even while taking a cab, never realizing where she was heading until she found herself forcing one of the gates of the cemetery and making her way to his grave. There were a couple of flowers on it. Not so sure of why May approached it and touched it. The stone under her fingers was cold, rough and solid. But still felt too fake to be real. She hadn't been there since the funeral, which made the situation felt even odder.

"Hey" she murmured out loud. She sat down with her legs crossed, staring at the place where his eyes should be located. Acting unconsciously, she gently stroked the grass with the tips of her fingers. "I'm talking to you. I'm officially insane"

The only answer was the silence.

"It's weird doing all the talk", continued May, "I guess I never gave you enough credit for that. I was in your funeral, you know? You would have hated it, I know you. Fury said he didn't have anything to do with it… that was wrong. I can't blame him too much, though. I already blame myself for this" she added.

She felt a tear rolling down her cheek, then saw it falling to the grass. She hated it. She hated that she could cry and feel her own heartbeat, that there was blood running through her veins, that she could inhale and feel the chilly air inside of her. May lied on the grass, knowing that no one would see her there. It wasn't fair, she thought. He was a good person, she was a terrible one. He had died saving people, and she would die with the memory of a dying girl in her arms.

"You shouldn't have died" she said. "You didn't deserve it, Phil. If I had been there I… I know, I would have died. But it would have been worth it, dumbass" May hit the ground with her fist. "You shouldn't be dead, Phil. I should. I… I wasn't there when you needed me… And I hate you for dying, for leaving, I really do. I hate you…"

May stayed there until the sky acquired a pale baby blue tone. It was all so unfair, she thought. Not that there was anything she could do about it.

About a quarter of hour later she heard the door opening and decided it was time to leave, so she stood and sighed. "Bye" she whispered to the grave as she started to walk away. Little did she know that far away in the distance a couple of blue eyes were staring at her with a sad expression and a small smile.

* * *

Hey guys here's chapter 2, I know it took me a lot to update but I'm in my summer vacations now so I'll be able to post a lot more! I hope you liked the chapter, please post some reviews! :) Next chapter is when May finds out Coulson is alive, if you have any ideas just post them

Ps to Natrix and other readers: I won't judge anyone for their grammar. My main language is not english so I'm the one who should be apologizing for all my mistakes lol


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